


Not Your Boyfriend

by HoneyGrunge



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: BDSM, Cigarettes, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Gun Kink, Hurt Jack, Insults, Jack Has Issues, Light Angst, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Self-Destruction, Sexual Violence, implied aftercare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 09:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18071000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyGrunge/pseuds/HoneyGrunge
Summary: Jack's just had a less than pleasant meeting, so he summons you to his office to blow off some steam. But it gets a bit more complicated than you initially expected...





	Not Your Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> I discovered the BL2 art book a while ago where the prelim artwork depicts Jack smoking, and I just HAD to include it in a fic lmao. I think it fits his reckless ideals.
> 
> Also there's some self indulgence in here so there's a couple places where it's assumed that the reader has a certain opinion on something/has grippable hair, just fyi

The meeting ends earlier than scheduled, Jack's usual call rudely interrupting your ECHOflix binge. 

"Shit," you mumble, pushing away your snacks and flopping back against the couch. "Accept call."

"Where the fuck are you?" Jack's agitated voice booms over the speaker. 

So it was one of THOSE meetings.

"At my dorm, watching tv, why?" you cautiously reply, jumping when you hear a loud crash.

"Uh, yeah, I THOUGHT we agreed that you'd be here when I got out of the meeting? So where are you?" Jack snaps.

"Yeah but it was scheduled to end at 7-"

"I don't give a FLYING fuck, just get up here. NOW."

He ends the call before you can offer a retort. You stare at the blinking red light, dread oozing into your system as you force yourself to sit up and get moving. Jack's known for his trademark whiplash mood and cruel streak, but he's always had a soft spot for you. You've been fucking him since your third day as his secretary, and have been lucky enough to avoid the brunt of his moods.

Until now, it seems.

Sex is one of the only things that calms Jack down, aside from alcohol and weed. His mood always improves as soon as you arrive, and you can only hope that'll be the case tonight. You pull on his favorite outfit: a slinky dark red dress and the Louboutin flats he got for you six months ago as a birthday gift.

You're ALWAYS required to wear flats on account of his height insecurity. He'd thrown a fit and destroyed a pair of pumps you'd worn on one of your rendezvous, tossing them over the side of his yacht and berating you for your "insensitivity".

God, the things you put up with for dick.

You're finally ready ten minutes later, hastily injecting your Hyperion issued contraceptive shot and snatching one last handful of candy before you run out the door. Jack messages you, phone buzzing insistently while you grit your teeth.

'I'm WAITINGGGGGGGGG' 

You don't bother to answer, truly angry at this undeserved treatment now. How DARE he? After all the nights you've spent with him, even if you'd had other plans, and he talks to you like this??

You just might get airlocked tonight, but you're dragging him out with you if you are.

Finally, you stop in front of the maximum security doors to his office. Slamming a finger down on the access button, you glare into the face level camera and flip him off.

The doors slide open and you walk in, not quite prepared for a screaming match but more than willing to start one if he further provokes you.

"Took you long enough," he growls around a cigarette, glaring at you through a tendril of its smoke, a tumbler of whiskey tightly clutched in his left hand. His eyes are ringed red and it's difficult to tell if it's from crying or THC.

You glance around the room and take in the mess, cocking a brow when you notice that his favorite gun display has been overturned, and multiple items from his Atlas collection have been thrown across the room. What on earth made him blow his stack THIS badly?

"What the hell's going on, Jack?" 

"I don't buy you shit for you to ask questions, I buy it to make you bend over, now get over here."

You bite your tongue and walk around his desk, leaning over to give him a good view down the dress and sitting on an arm of his chair. 

Time to diffuse the situation. 

"C'mon Jackie, you know you don't have to buy me things for me to fuck you," you whisper, leaning close and pulling the cig out of his mouth.

"Christ, that's what every gold digger says, how many brain cell'sdya give up for that liposuction?" he stabs, but his tone isn't quite as irritated now, and he's not pulling away when you reach a hand down to rub the back of his neck.

"Well stop buying things and I'll prove it," you suggest, gently massaging his occipitals and allowing yourself a small smile of triumph when he melts backwards into the chair. "You need a massage babe, and a blowjob, both at the same time. And you need to switch to vapes, despite how sexy you look smoking the old fashioned way."

He scowls, beckoning for you hold the cig back up to his lips. He takes a long drag, watching you closely with his peripherals. 

"Yeah? Ya volunteering for the job, sugartits?"

"Oh I'm volunteering for more than a beej massage," you assure, sliding down into the spacey chair, forcing him to wiggle sideways and tilt his hips towards you.

"You better be, you're the only thing keeping me from killing that-" he hisses, stopping himself before he can get it all out.

It's more than enough to clue you in on the situation: Angel.

"....seriously Jack, are you ok?"

He slams down his tumbler hard enough to make you jump and twists to face you, hot cig ashes flicking into your lap as he snarls.

"WHY do you keep ASKING me that, I SAID no questions you dumbmotherfuckingass, FIVE DOLLAR PANDORAN WHORE!!!!!!" he screams directly into your face, accidentally biting the cigarette in half in his rage.

You cringe away from him, genuinely terrified now. He drops his eyes and brushes the mutilated cigarette off his lap, fumbling for another one and lighting up as you tremble.

Tears burn your eyes and you struggle not to cry, focusing on the dopamine the chair is feeding into your nervous system. But you can't help it; the ferocity of his insults and rage is making you doubt the assumption that he'd never be violent towards you outside of a consensual bedroom setting. The tears slide down your cheeks and you sit stock still, ready to be insulted for crying too.

When you finally drum up the courage to glance at your silent companion, you're shocked to notice the telltale glisten on his cheek.

"You can go now," he says, turning away and pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

You want to leave, but you also don't know if you should. Something is obviously very wrong, and Jack has given himself alcohol poisoning on more than one occasion. 

".......I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on, I'm not gonna walk in tomorrow and find that you've finally drunk yourself to death," you whisper with as much courage as you can muster.

"God, why do you CARE so much?" he snaps, voice wavering ever so slightly. The skin not covered by his mask is a deep shade of red; he's mortified that you've seen him get emotional.

"Fine, you wanna stay, at least make yourself useful," he mutters, flicking his cig across the room and reaching up to grab your chin in a too-tight grip, manicured nails digging cruelly into your skin. His watery eyes glare down into yours and you shudder, starting to get aroused from the rough manhandling.

"Yes sir," you whisper, obediently sliding out of the chair and down onto your knees, kneading his thighs when he spreads his legs for you.

"Thank you for letting me stay, sir," you moan, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, reaching in to rub eager fingers across the smooth, pale skin of his rock hard erection.

He slides further down into the seat when you pull open the slit of his boxer briefs, gently rubbing your lips against the tip when his cock pops out and flexes, wetly smacking against your chin. He's the roughest man you've ever slept with; you've even been thrown across his desk once or twice when you've challenged his dominance with bratty comments. But despite all that, he loves gentleness and feathered touches when it comes to his blowjobs.

"Filthy little slut, I could tell you loved sucking cock the very first time I saw you, and now everyone KNOWS you're MY slut," he chatters lowly, sipping his drink and digging gruff fingers into your hair. "You should hear what some of the managers ask me, fuck, everyone can hear you screaming my name when I really give it to ya."

Your cheeks burn as you lap at his salty, recently showered tip, softly ghosting the tips of your fingers up and down his shaft. His breath hitches and he curses; you glance up and note with relief that you're successfully distracting him from whatever's been making him so angry.

Just as you're about to take the head into your mouth, he interrupts you with a sharp yank of your hair. It's rough enough to strain your neck and rip a gasp out of you, which escalates into a yelp when he dashes the leftover whiskey into your unsuspecting face.

"Come on, do I LOOK like I'm in the mood for that shit, get up and BEND OVER!" he yells, shaking your head and smashing your face against his cock. 

Good 'ol Jack is finally coming out of his shell.

"Yessir," you gasp, pulling your dress up to wipe the whiskey off of your eyelids.

Jack yanks until you're half standing, then gives you a brutal shove that slams your hip into the edge of his metal desk. You hiss in pain, pushing a splayed hand against his chest and arching your ass against his groin. He smacks your hand away and shoves you down, grunting when your head bounces off the desk.

"Unicorn?" he hisses, using your safe word to initiate the rough and tumble session.

"Unicorn," you respond, nodding and preparing yourself for the onslaught. 

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

He backhands you three times in a row, gripping your chin again and crushing your legs into the desk with his weight.

"Fuck, you're so fucken disgusting, I oughtta beat your ass for being such a nosy little bitch, didn't I tell you my personal shit stays personal?" he rants, face mere inches from yours as he rips your dress up over your hips.

"I'm sorry, so sorry sir, please put me in my place," you sob, clawing the desk when he roughly shoves you onto your stomach and smacks you in the back of the head.

"I really shouldn't use lube, you don't even DESERVE IT," he grunts, but fumbles in his drawer for it anyway.

"Thank you so much sir, you're so kind, you're TOO kind to me," you breathe, eagerly wiggling up against his fingers when he pushes a dollop of the lubricant up into you.

SMACK.

He's smacked your sensitive lower lips this time, eliciting a pained but happy squeal. He keeps going, practically beating you, but you love it, tears flowing down your cheeks and painting streams of your ruined makeup all over your face.

"PUNISH MEEEEE!" you scream, reaching back and clawing his arm to incense him.

"THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I'M DOING??" he yells back, and your breath hitches when you hear another drawer slide open.

The cold metal pushes against the back of your head and you shiver, fear spurring your arousal further along. He holds the gun in place and reaches down to tease your thoroughly abused labia with his cockhead, chuckling when you whine and scoot backwards.

"Look at THAT," he punctuates that last word with a shove of the gun. "I could blow your brains out and you're STILL begging for my dick!!"

"Please please PLEASE!" you wail, toes scrabbling against the cold floor as he finally snaps his hips and bottoms out.

He sucks in a deep breath and bucks into you, letting out an obscene moan.

"Oh, oh, OH godddddd," he praises as you clench down on his delicious intrusion.

His gruff entry doesn't burn very much, rarely does, because he's always sure to use appropriate lube and he's also not the largest cock you've taken; maybe around 5 inches and of an average girth. In the beginning you could sense that he was more than a little sensitive about it, and he still is to some degree. You've even caught him packing his bulge before corporate parties before, and of course he found creative ways to threaten you afterwards. But all things considered, you don't care; rough, fast fucking and unwavering domination is the key with you, whether it be done with fingers or a cock. 

And FUCK does he deliver.

"Fuck me!" you dare to demand, snarling against the crumpled papers under your ruined, bruising cheek.

He pauses, cocking the gun and squeezing your hip hard enough to make you squeak, leaning forward until his disheveled hair tickles your nose.

"Wanna run that by me again, SLUT?"

"I said, FUCK ME!" you demand again, and he tosses the gun down, twisting your face around to deliver two more brutal smacks, bloodying your nose with the last one.

They're almost too much, and you nearly yell out the safe word, but you bite your lip and let him push you down again.

"You NEVER, EVER demand anything from me. You are a SUBMISSIVE SLUT. You hear me??" he yells, drawing blood at your hip with his nails. 

You nod, excitement building as he finally starts to move.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry sir," you wail as he sets a brutal pace, grunting and straining as his groin slaps against your ass with each angry thrust.

"Atta girl," he praises, panting and yanking your hair, hips snapping until you're finally screaming his name and begging for all he has.

You can already feel an orgasm ready to overtake you, and it hits like a crowbar to the face when Jack lowers himself and hooks his angular chin over your shoulder, whispering a mixture of insults and praise directly into your ear.

"JAAAAACCCCKKKKKK!" you scream, writhing against his merciless hips, spasming and cumming hard enough to piss yourself.

"Fuckkkkkk, dirty BITCH, mmmmmmmmmmyeah piss yourself for me, I make you fall apart so hard, ngh, oh, huh, OH, UGH I'M CUMMING," he babbles, thrusts growing inconsistent and hips finally stuttering as he finds his own peak in your brutalized slick.

"Y/N!!!!" he gasps, collapsing against you and sucking in deep lungfuls of air, cock twitching and filling you with his cum. His legs are trembling with the exertion of his domination; he holds you there until you start to feel him soften.

He releases you and stumbles backwards, falling back into his chair while you rest against the desk.

A quiet noise rouses you and you push yourself up, dress so badly torn that it doesn't even cover your breasts anymore.

"Jack?" you call hoarsely, turning around to find him with his face buried in his hands.

He's crying.

"Jack...what's wrong?" you nudge, wobbling over to slide down next to him.

He still doesn't tell you, refusing to look up from his hands.

"Can you just leave? Please? I'll make up the lack of aftercare later," he asks once again.

".....yeah, ok. But just call me if you want to like, have dinner or something?" you weakly offer, and he nods, offering you his jacket to cover yourself back up on the walk back to your dorm.

You're about to let yourself out when he stops you.

"WAIT. Wait...uh....I shouldn't let you walk out like that...you wanna shower and just order some food for here?" he suggests, looking a little more pulled together now and offering a tissue for your still dripping nose. "I got a medbot that can patch that up real fast. And uh...I'm sorry for screaming at you earlier. There's just some shit going on with my ex and daughter, and it's just kinda fucking me up."

You pause and nod, shocked that a man as rough as him wants you to stay after seeing him so vulnerable. 

"Of course, I'd love that," you return, coughing when your throat tickles from all the screaming you've done.

"Don't like, get all mushy on me though, I'm not your boyfriend or some shit now," he quickly reminds, looking scared at the warm look on your face.

"Just shut the fuck up and help me get this dress off."

You can be patient, but only when you want to be.

And right now....you think you want to.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr and Twitter: Maedhros36  
> I hope you enjoyed <333


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